


My Blue Heaven

by VeronicaRich



Series: Rainbow Swirl [2]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Crossdressing, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaRich/pseuds/VeronicaRich
Summary: Lister has a birthday. Rimmer has a gift.





	My Blue Heaven

He was taking a hell of a chance, here. It was one thing for each individual on the ship to see him like this, but Rimmer knew things always shifted in a group dynamic. People fed off of each other, picked up others’ worst tics and inclinations, and said and did things they never would have done on their own. As the great sage Tommy Lee Jones had once observed, a person can be sensible and wise, but people were scared, stricken animals prone to snap judgments and behavior.

Even if there were only three of them.

 _Oh well_ , he thought, giving himself one last shimmy before walking into Parrot’s Bar. This wasn’t for them, it was for one person, and hopefully he would be suitably grateful.

Music was surprisingly subdued as he entered the room, though upbeat and bouncy. Kryten was ladling a cup of lager punch for the guest of honor while Cat batted at a pom-pom at the bottom of a hanging paper streamer. Rimmer took a couple breaths deeper than normal and clicked over, his heels hitting the floor with more confidence than the first time he’d done this so many years ago.

Lister was licking what looked like vindaloo sauce from his fingers as he told a story to Kryten between bites of the giant kabob the mech had fixed him. Rimmer marked that the thing looked like a damn yule log, and frowned; sure, it was a special occasion, but Lister was never going to get the retained water circulated out of his lower legs again. He quickly schooled his expression though, as Lister followed Kryten’s eyes and turned toward him - and halted halfway through a dazzling smile as he spotted it. “Is that a cigarette in your hat?” he demanded, pointing at the old deerstalker Lister had clapped on for some reason.

Lister’s eyes set upon him and briefly lit up. “Holy smeg-” he began, then his gaze traveled up to Rimmer’s frown. “What?”

“You’re back to smoking again, aren’t you?”

“Wha- I haven’t smoked in years! What’re you on about?”

Rimmer fisted his hands on his hips and nodded sharply at the hat. “There’s two in your hatband! At least give me credit for good eyesight; I may _look_ over fifty, but I can see better than Cat.”

“HEY!” The felinoid stopped batting and turned to the standoff. “I see fine, Not-Budinski! The specs are just for reading small stuff.”

Rimmer learned long ago not to be distracted. “Isn’t it bad enough you’re putting away that meat and sauce ... missile, to glom up your colon for a week? You have to smoke, too?”

Lister’s expression shifted to verging on anger, and he looked about to set to on Rimmer. A glimmer of comprehension passed over his face, though, and he reached up and plucked the hat off his head, then turned it over, examining the worn old thing. “Huh,” he mused. “Forgot I had those in there.” He pulled one out and sniffed it, his eyes closing in obvious pleasure. “Probably stale as shit,” he sighed, holding it up, then glaring at Rimmer. “This thing is at least a couple hundred years old; it didn’t go into stasis with me the past couple times Cat and I were in there. I’d no more light up this crap than vote for Nixon’s head,” he snapped, shoving it back into the hatband.

Rimmer was stubborn about letting go a good mad. “So you don’t have any ciggies on the sly? At all? Anywhere?” he demanded,

“Why would I lie?” Lister pointed out. “I’m a grown man, and if I want a smoke, I’ll have one. I told you long ago I’d given ‘em up. Why do you want to be cross with me?” he turned back on his husband.

Gritting his teeth a moment longer, Rimmer blew out a sigh. “I don’t know,” he relented, but still snappish. “Just worry, is all. Is that fine with you?”

Lister’s glare softened. “Aww, you’re concerned for my health-”

“If you die, I get shut off.”

“Nuh-uh.” Lister shook his head. “You _care_ about me. You care!”

Rimmer pointedly glanced at the deerstalker again and ground out, wryly, “Well, no shit, Sherlock. It’s sort of in the contract. It’s sort of why I do fool smeg like this.” He cleared his throat and swept his fingertips down his hips, then out to the side to show off the full picture.

Lister gave a last chuckle, then raked his eyes over Rimmer’s entire form, slowly, and whistled. “You clean up astoundingly,” he murmured, meeting the other man’s eyes. “That color always suits you, man.” Rimmer felt himself blushing like a damn schoolgirl. “It’s a big improvement over the last one.”

“You mean that orange monstrosity?” Cat slid over with a little yowl. “That’s ‘cause I was the consultant on this one, monkey! Bright colors are _not_ this dude’s friend. He’s more of a winter, or at last a late fall. Maybe somewhere around November 16.” Cat teetered his hand in gesticulation. “Although I would also have gone with white, except he’s a bit long in the tooth to carry that off. Or maybe it’s the penis; who knows.”

“That’s enough, moggy,” Rimmer hushed him with a sharp look and tone. Sliding his eyes back to Lister, he asked, “So, you ... like your birthday present, then?”

“Depends.” His expression was sly. “Is there a bow on back for me to untie?” Kryten’s small squeak of censure was eclipsed by Cat putting his hands over his ears and sulking back to his streamer muttering about “sex-crazed primates.” “Oh, come on,” Lister protested at them. “You two should be long past this juvenile behavior. I mean, we’re married, for smeg’s sake.”

“Honestly, I don’t know why this is such a daycare,” Rimmer tutted in agreement, shaking his head. “How old are we, again?”

“Do forgive me, sirs,” Kryten politely responded. “It’s a nasty force of habit I’ve neglected to program out of my run files-”

“Also, nobody wants to think of anyone diddling either one of you!” Cat interrupted matter-of-fact. “Nobody who looks as good as me should have to picture you two going at it.”

“Technically, sir, you don’t have to picture it,” Kryten reminded him, lifting a finger to punctuate. “You’ve walked in on the two of them in flagrante.” Cat looked horrified. “Remember, Mr. Cat?”

“Uhhhh,” Lister intoned, reaching over to grab Kryten’s wrist and lower his hand. “Maybe we don’t need to remind him of past trauma; maybe we don’t _all_ need to remember past trauma.”

The music had turned slow on the sound system, and Rimmer huffed in interruption. “Excuse me, but I am dressed to dance, and you need the exercise,” he directed at Lister. He tried to drop the stern look and let his expression turn what he thought might be coy. “Want to dance, stranger?”

“Man, nothing’s stranger than-” Cat was muttering, at the same time Lister cut him off with a loud, “I thought you’d never shut up carping at me and ask.” He stepped forward and extended his arms for Rimmer. The two of them briefly wrestled over who should lead before Lister said, “For heaven’s sake, you’re wearing the dress.”

“Are you really trying to impose your made-up gender rol-”

“You know I’m not-”

“Besides, I’m a good nine inches taller in these shoes, and-”

“OH MY GOD,” Lister growled, sotto voce because he was a foot from Rimmer. “It’s MY birthday, okay? Let me lead, smeg it all.”

“Well.” Rimmer purred, deciding to give in. “It _is_ that.” Besides, Lister’s warm hands felt too good on his body through the thin velvet of the gown.

“Good. Now ... shut up and kiss me, Hardy.”

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  This is the dress referenced ...


End file.
